


Stuffing for Breakfast

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [218]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Great Stuffing Grab of 2014.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuffing for Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Emila-Wan and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting to the Master Apprentice ML  
> Travis for posting to the Master Apprentice Archive on AO3  
> Alex for inspiring Arcadia
> 
> Thanksgivings we've celebrated with our lads:  
> [Thanksgiving Kisses](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1798084)  
> [A Paduan Thanksgiving](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1907886)  
> [The Holiday Table](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4140567)  
> [A Place at the Table](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4209198)  
> [Thanksgiving Reverie](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4397039)  
> [Thanksgiving is Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4397117)
> 
> Our lads are watching  
> [2014 Trophée Éric Bompard - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2014_Troph%C3%A9e_%C3%89ric_Bompard)  
> [Elena Radionova](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elena_Radionova)  
> [Maxim Kovtun](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maxim_Kovtun)
> 
> To Carol

Quinn chuckled to himself when he realized that he was about to win the Great Stuffing Grab of Thanksgiving Friday 2014.

He was greatly helped in accomplishing this feat by being a naturally early riser, or as Ian lovingly called him, "a bloody 'beKnighted' Jedi ascetic." Quinn also had Artoo to thank, since he'd heard the pup yipping soon after dawn, which had awakened him like a natural alarm clock. Reluctantly leaving the warm bed and his warmer laddie, wearing only his grey-flannel pajamas, he barely avoided waking Ian up along with him. If he hadn't put on his soft suede moccasins, he probably wouldn't have made it out of the bedroom without Ian catching him.

Even though there was a chance that Ian would join him in the kitchen before he had finished putting away the kibble, Quinn fed and watered the puppies before doing anything else. Then, while Artoo settled down to his breakfast, with Sandy still snoozing, Quinn started to prepare his own.

Lovingly packed leftovers awaited him in the refrigerator. After they had dropped off provisions at Alder Run's Children's Center yesterday, he and Ian had spent Thanksgiving with their family at Padua. Of course, Jo wouldn't let them go home without heaping portions of darkmeat turkey with gravy, cornbread stuffing, and roasted potatoes. Ginny had added apple turnovers and pumpkin pie with a knowing maternal smile. A big smile of his own graced Quinn's face as he took a look at his second feast in under 16 hours.

Feeling like an overgrown hobbit -- perhaps Mr. Quinton Baggins, he thought fancifully -- Quinn collected the packages, spread them on the counter, and made up a generous plate for himself. He took the hobbit's share of the stuffing, although he made sure to leave Ian enough for at least two days of leftovers. Then he turned on the microwave, hoping the beeping wouldn't wake his lad. He prepared a cappuccino next, practically drooling by now.

Quinn took his treats to the table and sat down to eat, ravenous even after his exploits of yesterday. He took the first bite of stuffing, feeling triumphant. Last year, Ian had beaten him to it, breaking Quinn's string of victories after having the good fortune to use the bathroom at just the right time.

Just as he was starting in on his second plateful, he heard a drowsy "Quinn?" coming from the corridor. Ian made his entrance in an endearingly oversized robe of chocolate brown Quinn had made the mistake of leaving on the hook behind the bathroom door.

Ian strolled up to Quinn, looking good enough to eat, indeed even better than the rapidly disappearing goodies in front of Quinn. After giving his herven a kiss on the forehead, he started to laugh when he saw that Quinn was surrounded by a Thanksgiving Feast, Part Two. "You beat me to the stuffing again. Don't know how you do it," he marveled.

"Age and stealth do have their advantages, now, laddie," Quinn said in a slightly smug tone of voice.

Just then, Artoo yapped from his basket, shaming Quinn into giving him credit, too. "As well as a yipping puppy," Quinn hastened to add, while Artoo gave out another yap in approval.

Ian grinned. "Let me guess -- your early-morning wake-up bark?"

"That's about the size of it, m'lad," Quinn said, grinning back.

"So you're on Team Quinn this year, are you, ma cute-stuff?" Ian said, as he scooped up Artoo for a proper petting.

All of this activity finally woke up Sandy, too. The tryptophan from the turkey giblets had given him a long autumn's nap. He trotted over to Quinn for his own petting and pampering, then started in on his breakfast, with Artoo joining him for a second helping.

As he watched Artoo eat his second meal of the day before many people were ready for breakfast, Quinn realized that not only was he a hobbit, but he had a hobbit puppy, as well. But at least Quinn was built like a quarterback; his puppy weighed four-and-a-half pounds, even in the Christmas sweater Prudence had knitted for him. 'Where did the tiny Chihuahua put it all?' Quinn wondered in awe.

Quinn got up to wash at the sink, leaving the water on for Ian after he'd finished. He took out the 'leftover leftovers', as he thought of them, and did some prodigious microwaving again, this time for his laddie. Meanwhile, Ian fired up the cappuccino maker that Quinn had left out for him, then poured spiced apple cider for two.

When Quinn placed the dish of savories in front of him, Ian said, "Thank you, ma gradh. You're gracious in victory." He brushed the hairs on Quinn's forearm with his thumb. "I'll try to remember that next year when I win the Great Stuffing Grab."

"That's it, my lad," said Quinn approvingly. "A Skyhawk never gives up." He slowed in eating his second plate of Thanksgiving Heaven, in order to keep pace with Ian.

When Ian had cranberry-sauced his last bite of stuffing, they were done. "I suppose I could start grading some essays after we do the dishes," Ian said without any enthusiasm whatsoever.

"I suppose so," echoed Quinn with even less enthusiasm, if possible. "What would you really like to do, though, laddie?"

Ian smiled at him with emerald-green eyes; Quinn always knew just when to spoil him. "There's a repeat of a skating show that we missed last Sunday, and it begins in eleven minutes."

Quinn smiled back indulgently. "Just enough time to clean up in here and get our backsides on the couch."

They did just that, cuddling under their green and blue checkerboard comforter with their feet up. The competition turned out to be the French leg of the Grand Prix series. The Russian skaters, both women and men, were the favorites this season. As usual, their amazing skill in ballet gave them an edge in artistry.

At first, the men watched avidly, even though they were cuddled together closer than a couple of ice dancers. But the cuddling soon got cuddlier, and the snuggling got snugglier as they kissed and nuzzled their way through the program.

Ian was the first to come up for air, only to notice that Elena Radionova, the fifteen-year-old ladies' champion, had already been crowned. After a bit of a chuckle, he said, "Boy, the way you're kissing me, I wouldn't have noticed if they'd announced that Tara Lipinski was the winner."

Quinn's laughter blended with Ian's. Tara was a commentator, along with her partner, Johnny Weir, but Ian could make him forget that easily, too. "Must be my own special version of the Jedi mind-whammy," he said with a flourish of his hand.

Ian obligingly kissed him with his hand still in mid-wave. "Ooh, the kiss-whammy," he purred. "Just promise to use it only with me."

"I promise, lad," said Quinn as he looked into his husband's shining eyes. "It's our own private bit of Jedi magic."

"I'm glad that's settled," Ian said. "Now where were we in the competition?"

Quinn smiled at him. "Good question, laddie. Neither one of us could pass a pop quiz," he said. "All I know is that Elena just won, and they've gone to commercial."

Knowing they had at least two minutes, Ian gave Quinn a slow and sultry kiss, which lasted until they heard Johnny's voice. "No worries -- they always repeat the best jumps," said Ian.

He was right -- they showed most of Elena's seven triple jumps again, and this time, the professors started to pay attention and enjoy them. Then the men's competition began and they continued to watch closely. Somehow, the quadruple jumps never lost their appeal, as the men all but flew over the ice, jauntily flaunting the quads in combination.

Maxim Kovtun won the gold medal, which was not surprising since he was the Russian national champion, after beating the ever-charismatic Evgeni Plushenko this year. Another kiss to celebrate the winners, then Ian turned off the television and gave Quinn a yearning look.

"I don't think you've had enough stuffing yet, ma guid-man," drawled Ian.

Quinn said, "You have an uncanny way of knowing these things, lad," just as he grabbed Ian's hand to roust them off of the couch.


End file.
